


The Green Pheonix

by Gidgit2u



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 20/20 challenge, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DFW 2020 Challenge, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Death eaters abusing spouses, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Facebook: Dramione Fanfiction Writers, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Minor Character Death, Moral Dilemma, Snarky Severus Snape, dramione - Freeform, war makes us review our priorities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gidgit2u/pseuds/Gidgit2u
Summary: A betrayal at the beginning of sixth year causes Draco to swear allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix.Having recently come of age and as both hold the position of Prefect, Hermione is the perfect choice to become the Order’s handler of the grieving Slytherin.Despite years of hate and animosity, Hermione and Draco need to overcome their past and put aside their differences in order to help defeat Voldemort. As the war crescendos, the two must fight prejudice on all sides as they discover they may not be as different as originally thought.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	The Green Pheonix

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers :) This story is written for the 2020 challenge hosted by the FB group ‘Dramione Fanfiction Writers.’
> 
> It is a prompt based challenge and mine is:  
> “Does the pain ever go away?”  
> “No, my darling, you just make room for it.”
> 
> Each end of the month, a new chapter will be posted as per the challenge parameters.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**CHAPTER 1**

  
He wasn’t supposed to be there.

He wasn’t supposed to be one of them.

Not yet.

His father had promised him that back in Draco’s fourth year.Back when he’d had felt the power of the Dark Mark return upon his skin. When the shallow grey had turned to inky black.He’d promised his son that the Dark Lord took only those who were of age into his service. That because of the ministry’s enforced underage trace, he, Draco, would be safe.

Safe at least, until the Dark Lord returned to power and took control of the ministry, that was.

Draco had found it odd, his father using the word safe instead of honoured. Odder still the relief Draco had felt hearing of the delay in his call to service.

If he had possessed any ounce of bravery, he’d have at least allowed himself the privilege of honesty within his own mind. 

Draco was bloody terrified.

Three times now, Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord.

Three times he’d either vanquished, humiliated, or caused disruption to the Dark Lord’s plans. If Draco was to believe the rumour mill that flew through Hogwarts like a broom on fire, however; it wasn’t just three.  
Harry Potter had been a thorn in the Dark Lord’s side at least once, if not twice more.His father had said little after Draco’s second year, though he knew his father had had his hand in the events that had occurred.He knew solely because it had lost him Dobby.The thought of his Father having aided whatever had been petrifying students hadn’t troubled him for long, as his focus had been on ways to get Potter back for freeing his favourite house-elf. 

Bloody saint Potter.

No, he hadn’t given his father’s behaviour after leaving the headmaster’s office until he’d returned home for the summer break.

Until he’d noticed his mother wearing longer sleeves than usual that summer.Noticed the slight tremor as she served tea and passed the jam.

Some things even magic couldn’t heal.

Draco had learnt that at the early age of eight, on his way back from pilfering a biscuit from the kitchens. He’d heard a noise, like a whimper of a crup, and his curious nature had drawn him to the slight crack between the door and frame of his father’s study.As his eyes had adjusted to the flickering golden blanket of light from the fire from the hearth, he’d stifled a gasp.Draco had had to look away.He’d taken a deep breath and refocused upon the sight inside the room.He’d needed to, for his brain to believe what his horrified eyes took in.

His mother, prone and limp upon the ground. The sounds coming from her had been… inhuman. They’d made Draco wish to rush inside and throw himself upon her. Shielding her from whatever was causing her harm. He’d instead found he couldn’t so much as move to blink, let alone get his feet to move.

His father had towered above her, wand drawn and cruelness etched upon his face. As his mouth had cast a curse, Draco’s mother had risen like a marionette with slightly tangled strings by a drunken handler.Blood had run down her chin as she’d bitten her lip to—Draco had thought—keep herself from screaming.

Draco had slipped silently backward, not taking his eyes from the sliver of light and the sight of his parent’s tableau.Just before he’d shifted toward the staircase, his mother had turned her head and his gaze had met hers.He’d sprinted like the hounds of Hades were on his heels up to his room when he’d seen his father turn round.

His room was in the East wing, a fair dash from his father’s study, and it had winded Draco by the time he’d flung himself inside the comforts of his bedroom.Pelting toward the bath, he’d promptly vomited up the biscuits.It had taken him over an hour to calm his heaving stomach, to call for Dobby to come clean him up and to put him to bed.

That was the first time Draco’d seen an Unforgivable used.

The first time he had an inkling that the Manor and the Malfoy name weren’t prizes his mother had won by marrying his father, but a prison.

His father had surprised him the next day by taking him to purchase a new broom.When asked, his father had proclaimed it a reward for his latest marks.Marks, which according to Draco’s tutor, Professor Mileaubrand, showed that he carried on the pureblood respectability and brilliance expected.

Draco had preened under his father’s attention.Draco rarely experienced Lucius’s full attention, not as he had that day. As they’d wandered throughout Diagon Alley and chatted about this and that, Draco had wondered about what he’d witnessed the night before.

It had taken him years to realise that his father had known of his nocturnal visit and had reacted as he saw fit to ensure Draco didn’t become dis-enamoured with him.As Draco had looked at him adoringly, his father had subtly cast dispersions against his mother throughout their outing.

“Your mother’s not meant for long social days, Draco.”

“I can withstand the pressures that come with being a Malfoy, Draco, but alas your poor mother wasn’t raised in this esteem.”

“We need to be gentle on her, Draco, give her her personal space and make no demands of her time.”

“Don’t hug her too hard, Draco, lest she fall into a faint.” 

His father had woven these subtle barbs intended to separate son from mother as masterfully as a Ministry modiste wove a robe.He’d then temper their sting by proclaiming his undying love for her, lest Draco became suspicious.

His father’s apparent devotion had cast even more doubt upon Draco’s memory of the previous evening and upon returning home, he’d decided that he’d been mistaken. That he couldn’t possibly have seen what he’d thought he’d seen.His father was too important a man, too proper a gentleman, to lay a hand upon or curse a woman.

Especially his wife.

Despite believing it all to be his imagination playing tricks on him, it had been the last time Draco had done any nocturnal wandering in his home.At least until he’d left for Hogwarts and forgot.

He hadn’t forgotten now. Now, the past seemed to mock him. His… father, whom he’d held in such esteem as a child and whom he’d wished to emulate politically and personally as he’d grown older, had betrayed him.

He’d lied. About everything.

His father, who now rotted away in Azkaban like a common criminal.

Thanks again to bloody Potter.

And now Draco was paying the price of his own ignorance to his father’s manipulations and weakness.

“Does the pain ever go away?” His breath hitched as a sob pushed past his chapped and bloodied lips. He was asking about more than just the pain on his arm, the physical ache the least of his worries.  


He knew without words that his mother understood. He felt her sigh as she cradled his head upon her lap.

“No, my darling. You just make room for it.”

  
Her soft hands, the hands Draco had always cursed for being weak, stroked his forehead with a strength he wished he possessed.

Draco sobbed into his mothers lap, tears and snot running down his face unabashedly. For the first time that he could remember, Draco didn’t care about his appearance or if one thought he was a weakling, a coward.

He already knew he was.

His mother, his darling, stoic, mother, whom he’d forsaken all these years as a flighty socialite without substance.She was his rock.

“How… how did I get it so wrong?” His words pulled from his lips with the roughness of silk caught on a branch.“How could I forget… not see…”

“My dragon,” his mother crooned, rocking him gently. She stroked his hair almost absently, as heart wrenching sobs erupted from his chest. “Your father’s brilliance blinded you. His shiny mask was always firmly in place with you, his grip on you too tight.”

“I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry, mother.” Draco rose on one arm and cupped his mother’s cheek with his other hand.“I’m sorry I failed you.I should have been protecting you from him.Not dismissed you by his tongue.And now…”His face scrunched and crumpled as fresh tears careened down his cheeks. 

“My darling child.It wasn’t your place to protect me.It is mine to protect you. I have done my best throughout the years, but I didn’t, couldn’t, truly speak out against him.It is not your fault, my son.I would be no good to you if I’d have gone the way of your friend Theo’s mother.”

Draco gasped.

“You don’t really think…”

“I don’t just think, my love.I was there.” His mother stared at him, her placid stoic nature betrayed by the fire Draco saw in her gaze. “Cloeila was one of my best friends.Agnar Nott made sure news of the unfortunate incident, as he called it, could fall from either of our lips—your fathers or mine.” Her lips thinned, her gaze lost to the past.

“What happened?” The soft-spoken words seemed to rouse his mother from her memories, but she shook her head.

“Not a tale for today, my love.Today is yours.Today, we need to plan.”

“What’s there to plan?” Draco was suddenly angry.He pushed away from where he sat nestled against his mother’s warmth, standing like a panther ready to strike the nearest prey.“I’m royally and epically doomed mother.There’s no way I’ll be able to carry out what the Dark Lord wants!!”

Pushing back his sleeve, he glared at the red throbbing mark pulsating against his pale skin. 

He’d always thought the mark fascinating, cut his teeth on the stories of the valiant Knights of Walpurgis and the followers of the Dark Lord that his father had told him. How they alone would uphold the traditions and sanctity of the magical community against those wishing to do it harm. How they alone would triumph over the mudbloods and blood traitors who spit upon the blessings from the gods and mother earth herself. How the Dark Lord would give them and their family's glory and magic beyond comprehension.

Draco hadn’t realised how blinded he’d been to the reality outside of the rose-coloured blanket that had covered his eyes and wrapped around him since birth.Not until he’d begun Hogwarts, and a mudblood had beaten him in all classes.Every bloody year despite his academic efforts.

Hermione Granger, mudblood and disgustingly proud to be.

Not that that even mattered anymore.She didn’t even matter.He couldn’t afford to care about anything passed the directly expected.

“I’m dead within the year mother, if I don’t do what the Dark Lord has ordered.”

“Then let’s keep you alive, my dragon.”


End file.
